Almost four years ago, I published my first novel. At the time I didn’t think much of it. Sure I was proud, but it didn’t feel like I thought it would. After spending the previous four years rewriting and picking it apart, I was ready to be done with it and move on to the next idea. Since then, I’ve written seven novels, three short stories, and am currently writing my eighth.
Achieving goals is a funny thing. I’ve noticed that when I reach the finish line, after tirelessly climbing and scratching to finish the book, I end up moving it ahead of me. Another goal. Another journey. More countless hours of writing. There’s no feeling of victory, just pushing forward toward that goal post.
When I take a moment to stop and look back, I see all those checkpoints reached and passed, I realise just how far I’ve come.
It’s then I also realise that this is what life is. A never-ending journey. We never actually reach the goal post—because once we get close, we move it again. And that’s a wonderful thing, as forward momentum always is.
So, if the goal posts are always moving and we are always thinking ahead of ourselves for what next is on the agenda, then celebrating accomplishments along the way is imperative. To live a truly fulfilling life, finding the joy along the track is instrumental in our pursuit of that elusive end goal.
And so I take a pause to weigh up the progress I’ve made. In four years I’ve published seven books. Seven. That’s an achievement worth celebrating, and something to be proud of. Here’s to the next seven… with tons of moments of happy dances and wine toasts and laughter and accomplishment joy along the way.
